


can we keep him?

by blueshirts



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, post-CATWS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4290792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueshirts/pseuds/blueshirts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tough, ex-Soviet assassin finds a stray kitten by the side of the road. We all know how this ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can we keep him?

It was drizzling the first time Bucky ventured out of he and Steve’s apartment. It was one of those summer rains-- where the clouds are white and bright, glowing from the sun behind them. The streets of the city were strangely still. No one was out. Logically, Bucky knew that was because it was 10 AM on a Tuesday and the weather was less than ideal, but he couldn’t help but feel gracious for the solitude anyways.

Bucky pondered for a moment, then turn right and began walking. He realized belatedly that he probably should have left a note for Steve, in the unlikely event that Steve finished up his duties with his new team before lunchtime. If he went back to their apartment, though, he knew it’d be even harder to make himself leave. And so, he continued his shuffle-walk down the abandoned streets, the mist and drizzle dampening his hair and causing wet strands to fall haphazard in his eyes. 

He paused to fix his tuck his hair behind his ears and to remove his jacket-- the sun’s intensity had become harder to bear as it rose in the sky and diminished the cloud cover. As he slid the jacket off his torso and tied the sleeves in a knot around his waist, Bucky heard the slightest mew. If it weren’t for his serum-enhanced hearing he would have missed it. He stilled, and looked around. Seeing nothing, he would have put the sound down to just another part of the clamor of the city, had he not heard it a second time. The second mew was louder, more insistent. 

Bucky saw movement out of the corner of his eye and his heart skipped a beat. He whipped around and, in the gutter, he saw what looked to be a discarded t shirt pulsating as though alive. He crouched down and cocked his head. No, that was definitely not a t shirt, he decided. 

It was a small kitten, its coat so dingy with soot and grime it looked gray. When it spotted Bucky, its bright blue eyes became impossibly wide. It feebly lifted its head up and mewed at him, for a third time. Bucky smiled. The poor little guy seemed like a fighter.

Instantly, he was reminded of Steve. What would Steve do in this situation? Weighing his options, Bucky decided to try and pick the kitten up with his flesh hand, as it might have provided more comfort. Luckily or unluckily, the kitten seemed too beat to resist his grip. Bucky brought the grey bundle up to his chest and hurried back to the apartment.

On the walk back, Bucky tried his best to make the kitten feel comfortable. He could only draw patterns in its soft fur with his cold, metal fingers, but by the time he reached the door to the apartment, the kitten’s diminutive body was vibrating as it purred. He smiled down at it, oddly proud of himself, and pushed the door open--

“--Bucky?” 

Shit. Steve sounded pissed. The kitten’s eyes snapped open and it stopped purring. Steve raced into the entryway, his face ruddy with anger and fear and sudden relief.

“Uh. Hi, Steve,” Bucky removed one of his hands from the kitten to wave at Steve. The kitten hissed weakly, “I thought you wouldn’t be back until later.”

“Sam brought donuts and I wanted-- wait. What are you holding?” Steve had noticed the kitten, apparently. 

Bucky bit his lip and walked completely into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He didn’t know how Steve would respond to him bringing a stray home, but he was sure the rest of the building didn’t deserve to be subjected to it.

“Before you get angry, I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note or text you or something.”

Steve sighed and scrubbed his face with one hand, “I’m not angry about--. Buck, I’m happy you’re feeling good enough to go out, I just-- please tell me that thing in your arms is a cat and not a bomb. It keeps making hissing noises.” Steve’s voice sounded strained.

Bucky grinned.

“I think he doesn’t trust you.”

“The mysterious furry thing in your arms doesn’t trust  _me?”_ Steve’s tone was laden with utter disbelief.

Bucky laughed and moved towards the kitchen.

“Let’s get him some food and water.”

\--

Several minutes later, the kitten-- or Cat, as Bucky had decided to call him-- was crouched on the countertop munching away happily on leftover donut.

“Can cats eat donuts?” Steve asked, concerned.

Bucky gave him a shit eating grin, “I dunno. Cat’s doing his best, though.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Steve frowned, but his eyes were twinkling.

Steve went to the cabinet to fetch a bowl for Cat’s water and they fell into amicable silence. Bucky snatched a donut for himself and finished it slowly, savoring every bite. He lazily licked the glaze off his fingers when he was done, then looked up to find Steve was already watching him. Bucky smirked. Caught, Steve cleared his throat.

“Anyway--,” he began, just as Bucky blurted,

“So, can we--,”

They both clamped their mouths shut, and Steve gestured mutely for Bucky to continue. It was Bucky’s turn to clear his throat.

“I was wondering if, you know, wecouldkeepthecat?” the words came out of his mouth in a tumble, all strung together and indecipherable in his haste.

“What?” Steve asked, confused.

Bucky took a deep breath, and leaned forward to scratch the nape of Cat’s neck. He bit his lip and looked up, not above resorting to cheap tricks to get his way,

“Can we keep him?”

Steve’s gazed at him, clearly wanting to say yes.

“I dunno, Buck. What if he has an owner already?”

“I found him in a gutter on the side of the street,” Bucky pointed out, indignant, “If he had an owner, that owner doesn’t deserve him.”

Steve nodded earnestly. He agreed, of course, but there was more.

“We don’t know if the apartment building allows pets.”

Bucky scoffed because, when had rules ever stopped he and Steve from doing what they wanted, what was  _right?_ Steve smiled softly at him. He knew exactly what Bucky was thinking, and he agreed.

“Okay. That was dumb of me,” Bucky opened his mouth, excited, but Steve cut him off before he could interrupt, “We do need to take him to the vet, though. He needs to be looked over before we take him in.”

Bucky was nearly jumping up and down. He didn’t know why he was so excited, exactly. Cat was purring and brushing his head up against Bucky’s metal hand, begging for a scratch, and Bucky happily gave in to his demands.

Bucky looked at Steve, eyes shining bright. He didn’t voice his gratitude, but Steve somehow understood from his expression alone. Steve rolled his eyes as if to say,  _whatever, after all we’ve done for each other, allowing you to bring random strays home is nothing,_ but Bucky knew Steve was already fond of the kitten, too.

“Come on,” Steve straightened, nodding his head towards the bathroom “time to see what color his fur is beneath all that dirt.”


End file.
